I Scream For Ice Cream
by The Royal T
Summary: Just a little ficlet. Quinn's attempts to relax are interrupted by a sudden and overwhelming craving for ice cream. Set somewhere between "Funk" and "Journey".  Very  mild swearing.


**This was written to fill a prompt over at the glee fluff meme involving a pregnant Quinn chasing down an ice cream truck. Shenanigans ensue. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Fox does.  
**

* * *

Quinn Fabray sighed heavily as she sank into the couch a little further. Now that she was in her third trimester everyone had started babying her with an alarming intensity, and she was sick of it. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, which was how she found herself enjoying some much-needed _alone_ time after declining to accompany the Jones family to the mall. She had assured them she would be just fine without anyone watching over her, and yes, she did know how to dial 9-1-1. Honestly, how old did they think she was? It wasn't her fault that her hormones made her break down when she thought she had locked herself in the bathroom ("Quinn, honey, you have to _pull_ the door."), and who could hold her responsible for a chicken that was bound and determined to catch fire the minute she redirected her attention elsewhere? Exactly. But none of that mattered, because now she could sit down and relax without anyone asking if they could get her anything and she was in a state of pure bliss.

That gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. She sat upright with a jolt, her eyes widening. "Ice cream," she whispered. She stood up and waddled as quickly as she could to the kitchen, tearing open the freezer to find...nothing. No! This was not happening. She was going to have ice cream if it was the last thing she did.

It was about then that she heard the sweetest music ever to enter her ears. The cheesy jingle of the ice cream man, wending his way through the neighborhood. Perfect! She would just walk outside, buy a Choco Taco, and resume her uninterrupted relaxation. But she needed money. Quinn casually checked the counter to see if they had left her any cash, but it was as spotless as ever. Growling, she marched into the room she shared with Mercedes and checked her own wallet, but it was similarly afflicted with a lack of money. Panic truly setting in, she threw open one of the drawers in Mercedes' dresser and checked underneath a pair of jeans for some money even though she wasn't supposed to know about that hiding place at all. She needed something to do at two in the morning when the baby kept her awake, so sue her. _Bingo,_ she thought to herself. A solitary five-dollar bill lay at the bottom of the drawer, and her smile couldn't have been larger. Money in hand, she ran as fast as her cumbersome stomach would allow to get outside.

The ice cream truck wasn't there. Impossible! There was always a large throng of kids waiting to get some, she should have had more than enough time. Eyes frantic, she spotted the truck slowly trying to sneak away from her. The nerve! She thundered down the middle of the Jones' freshly manicured lawn, waving her arms above her head.

"HEY! WAIT JUST A DAMN MINUTE!"

* * *

Frank was really sure he'd seen everything in his fifteen years as the ice cream man of Lima, but the sight presenting itself in his rearview mirror had to take the cake. A manic pregnant woman was chasing after his truck as if her life depended on it, and he was torn between bursting into hysterical laughter and fearing for his life. He remembered quite vividly how Cindy had been when she was expecting and suddenly started craving something, and nothing was more terrifying than a woman holding a butter knife at your throat daring you to refuse to go to KFC at midnight. The girl tearing after him had that same relentless determination on her face, and for a moment he briefly considered just flooring it so he could get home.

His deep inner thoughts were interrupted as he was forced to slam on the brakes. Damn stop sign. He ventured a glance towards his mirror, and suddenly found himself wishing he hadn't. She was gaining ground much too quickly. Sighing, he crossed himself before he put the truck in park, preparing himself for the undoubtedly irate girl waiting for him.

"Hello, Miss, is there something I can get you today?" The glare she sent him made him want to crawl into a hole and die; this would not end well.

"Yeah, there sure is! I need three Choco Tacos, and I need them NOW. How dare you make me chase after you! Can you not see that I am inconvenienced by _this_?" She screamed, pointing to her rotund stomach for emphasis. Frank gulped.

"Uh, sorry for the trouble, Miss. Here you go," he said, wincing as she snatched the packages away from him. As she tore into the first one right then and there, he coughed. The girl gave him a withering stare.

"_What_ do you want?"

"Um, well...you need to...to pay..." He hoped his pit stains weren't too noticeable, but he was almost certain she could smell the fear on him anyways. She shoved a bill into his hand and promptly stormed off without a word. He exhaled deeply, finding himself suddenly grateful that he had tomorrow off.

* * *

As Quinn reclined once more on the couch, she couldn't have been a happier person. She had sated her craving (for now, at least) and she still had plenty of time to relax in solitude before Mercedes and her family returned from the mall. After licking the third and final wrapper clean, she found herself dozing off, and didn't wake up until the front door opened.

"Hi Quinn, we're home," Mrs. Jones' voice called from the hallway. Her face appeared as she entered the living room. "Was everything okay while we were gone?" Quinn smiled a very tired smile.

"Yeah, of course. Nothing out of the ordinary," she replied.

"And the baby?" Quinn's smile got a little wider.

"I think she's pretty happy at the moment."


End file.
